


Unauthorized After School Recreation

by princessofmind



Series: That boy is a problem [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 18:00:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1275745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessofmind/pseuds/princessofmind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It probably should be embarrassing, how soon after their encounter at the party that you texted Eridan, but it had been a true test of wills to not contact him that same night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unauthorized After School Recreation

The school looked way more intimidating in person than it did on the internet.

It probably should be embarrassing, how soon after their encounter at the party that you texted Eridan, but it had been a true test of wills to not contact him that same night. You’ve never used the words “smitten” to describe yourself, but those big blue eyes, full lips, and perfect hair haunted your dreams and thoughts any time you weren’t preoccupied with something else (school was a lost cause, unfortunately), so you broke down on Tuesday night about one in the morning and drafted up the most eloquent post-one-night-stand text message ever created (it just said “hey this is sollux”). He’d responded the following afternoon, and with no preamble invited you to meet up with him after school on Thursday. Of course, it meant you had to cut last period to get to Saint Mary’s before class let out, but it was totally worth it to be standing outside the brick pillars and wrought iron gates as the uniformed students filed out of the old but meticulously maintained building on the hill.

Most of the people who walked past just ignored you, and it felt alarmingly like being in an Oxygen TV show. These couldn’t possibly be teenagers; every last one of them was primped and pressed perfectly, and even the ones who looked slouchy did it with such a deliberate grace that it made you feel incredibly out of place in your tight-fitting jeans and graphic tee (not to mention the choker, which hadn’t felt ridiculous at all until right this second).

“Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?”

One of the students had stopped, a slender blond with the first three buttons of her uniform shirt unbuttoned to show off the hot pink camisole she wore underneath, a phone in her hand and a designer purse that had to cost more than your car slung over her shoulder. In a way that you’re starting to become accustom to, you look around convulsively to make sure that yes, she is actually talking to you, before answering. “Uh.”

“Oh!” Her whole face lights up, and her gloss-slick lips part in a grin. “You were with Eridan on Saturday night, right? Dang, that lighting didn’t do you any favors. You’re a right cutie up close. I’m Roxy, by the way.”

“Um?”

“If you’re looking for him, he got held up after school doing something for his French professor, but it shouldn’t take long,” she continues on, seemingly oblivious to the flush that’s starting to bleed from your cheeks down your neck. “But who knows, with that old bat, she could keep him here till the groundskeepers lock up, so. Why don’t we go find him?”

You really don’t know how you feel about that, but she’s linking her arm in yours and she smells like expensive perfume and makeup and you are, once again, officially in over your head. She chatters on about school (a trigonometry test she’s sure she aced) and the party (she drank all the peach schnapps and was pissed “right the hell off” when they didn’t have more) and your eyes (which are apparently stunning, once your transition lenses adjust to being in the building). Roxy leads you up a staircase and down a deserted hallway, throwing open the door to a classroom with only a single occupant.

If the school uniforms were flattering on everyone else, Eridan’s was something out of a fetish porno from the way it hit you right upside the head. His blazer was unbuttoned, shirt starting to come untucked and the top button undone, his tie loose and just artfully crooked, and his hair was done in that loose, messy style from the party that had made you just want to sink your fingers into it. He looks up from the sheet of paper he’s copying onto the whiteboard and smiles, and you go weak at the fucking knees.

“It’s really rude to make people stand around and wait for you, y’know,” Roxy fusses at him, still holding onto your arm. “He was standing outside the gate like a lost puppy.”

“Hey-”

“Sorry, I wasn’t expectin’ to be kept after today,” he says, and even if he was lying, you really can’t find it in yourself to care. “Thanks for bringin’ him up here, Rox. You’re a peach.”

“Only for you, darling,” she says, flitting over to kiss him on the cheek (leaving a smudge of gloss on his skin that he wipes away with the back of his hand) before making her exit, giving you a wiggle-fingered wave and a wink before closing the door.

“Uh.” Jesus fuck, you’ve said exactly one coherent word since arriving at the school, and you have to look like the biggest idiot this side of the equator. “It’s fine, teachers can be shitstacks like that. I didn’t have anything else to do anyways.”

“Yeah, this bitch has it out for me,” he says, nose wrinkling in an expression of disgust as he turns back to the board, continuing to print words that mean absolutely nothing to you (since you don’t speak a word of French) in his perfect, loopy scrawl. “I speak fluent Italian, and I can guess a lot of French because of it, an’ she thinks I’m too _smug_ about it.”

“You probably are.”

He looks at you for a moment like he isn’t sure what you’re made of, and just when you’re starting to think you seriously overstepped your boundaries, he smirks and sets the paper on the large oak desk that dominates the front of the room. “I totally am,” he confesses as he walks around the desk to lean back against the front of it.

Eridan barely has to lift a finger to beckon you closer before you’re walking over to him, bending down to meet his upturned lips without any prompting, and he tastes like cigarette smoke and peppermint, and your stomach promptly ties itself in a pretzel. He gets his fingers in your hair, and with him leaning on the desk, you have to bend down even more than usual, but you don’t give a fuck about the looming crick in your neck because he’s scratching at your scalp and slipping his tongue into your mouth.

“Is your teacher gonna come back?” you ask, and the words come out slightly muffled against his lips.

His eyes are lidded, but he still manages to look unimpressed when he arches an eyebrow in response. “Oh, are you scared of getting caught? I mean, I thought you could handle something like this, given how you dress an’ all, but if you aren’t _man_ enough-”

It’s so obvious that he’s baiting you, but more than anything, you want to live up to his expectations of you. This beautiful, experienced, train wreck of a boy thinks you can keep up with him, and liked what he saw of you last time enough that he invited you here to do whatever he’s already cooked up in a _public place_. So you shut him up with your lips, bending him backwards over the desk with a hand in his hair, and he arches into it with an eager moan.

Wrapping a leg around your hips, he pulls you close enough that he can undoubtedly feel how embarrassingly hard you are less than five minutes in, but he doesn’t laugh in your face and push you away. Instead, he rolls his hips up, and it’s just as fluid a motion as when he sat in your lap at the party. It’s not even close to fair how coordinated and smooth he is when he’s grinding against your dick and sucking on your tongue, but you’re too busy pressing him into the desk to care.

He gets a finger under the band of your choker, using it to tug you back away from him, and the way it bites into the soft skin sends a jolt through you that you weren’t even close to expecting. “You’re getting off on this,” he says, and he sounds _gleeful_ at the statement which wasn’t even close to a question.

Because yeah, okay? Yeah, you totally are. The hottest boy you’ve ever laid eyes on is on his back on a desk, lips kissed red and open as he looks up at you from behind his glasses, his uniform mussed, and the only door separating you from the rest of the school isn’t even locked. You’re pretty sure there’s a painting of a saint on the wall over the whiteboard. This is the kinkiest fucking thing you’ve ever even thought of doing, and you’re a seventeen year old hormonal boy. You are absolutely, one hundred percent, getting the fuck off on this.

Eridan pulls the fake leather of your choker higher up on your neck and latches onto the newly exposed skin, kissing lightly at first before starting to suck hard enough that you know you’re going to be wearing the stupid accessory for a week before the bruise fades, and knowing that he’s marked you just makes you thrust against his dick even harder. If you’re being too rough, he doesn’t say anything, just keeps biting at your neck and licking at the red spots as if to ease the pain away and it feels so good that your eyes are clenched shut behind your glasses.

His other leg comes up to wrap around your waist, and it’s like you’re trying to fuck him through your clothes. Your shirt is sticking to your back, and he’s panting loudly in your ear, starting to squirm in the most deliciously uncoordinated way, and when you shift the angle of your hips just a little, he shudders and swears and fists his hands in your hair.

“Fuck, fuck, just like that,” he groans, his thighs starting to shake on either side of your hips.

And you obey, pushing him down into the desk hard enough that your vision crosses, your weak arms just barely supporting you over him, and when he yanks on your hair hard enough to make your eyes sting, you promptly come in your pants.

“Sollux, Sollux,” he whines, and you blearily realize that you’ve just collapsed on top of him and his erection is pressing against your hip. Somehow, you manage to worm a hand between your bodies, grinding the heel of your palm against his dick and biting his neck in a mimic of the way he did earlier, and with a shudder and a muffled yell, he’s coming as well.

There’s a blissful moment where you’re both still, breathing against each other’s hair, and he’s let go of your hair to wrap his arms around your shoulders. His body is warm, and still trembling faintly, but you can feel his heart beating from where you’re laying against his chest, and it feels so intimate that you couldn’t care less if the headmaster and every teacher in the school came through the door.

Eridan chuckles, tugging you up enough so he can kiss you, and you can feel his smile against your lips. “We’re both goin’ to hell.”

And you seriously suspect that so long as he was there, you’d follow him all the way down.


End file.
